Creeping Night
by OragamiBeauty
Summary: Homicide Detective Haruno Sakura has been stumbling upon the victims of an unknown killer, searching for the man who committed the violent crimes. Little does she know, her own life is in jeopardy. Rated for violence, death, and mature situations.


_Long, tanned fingers tapped the keys of an old typewriter.  
_

_**Click click click.  
**_

_**The room was lit by a single white candle, casting ever-moving shadows against the walls.  
**_

_**Click click click.  
**_

**_The young authoress, still not the owner of __Naruto__, smiled faintly as she typed, lips curved in amusement, a single white incisor gently peeking out._**

_**She glanced over at the grandfather clock that sat against one wall, then, deciding she had written enough for the time being, went to have dinner with her mother and older brother.**_

_**"Lasagna, again? Damn it. I never get to pick what we eat."**_

_**The curious reader snuck into her room, stepping over the random rock CDs and various cheesy/sappy romance novels, and crept up to the typewriter, deliberately ignoring the 18+ manga, which had two males in an extremely suggestive position on the cover, as he/she tugged the paper out of the typewriter. **_

_**After glancing once at the door, listening for the sounds of pleasant conversation in the direction of the dining room, the person began to read.**  
_

**There once was a young woman named Haruno Sakura...  
**

-- -- -- -- --

It was a beautiful night in the large city of Konohagakure.

The black sky stretched, never ending, not a star to be seen.

The streets were silent, as always, and most of the lights in the buildings were off.

The sources of the little light there was was from the flickering street lamps, blinking on and off at random. It was almost entirely deserted that night, only the quiet footsteps of a pair of black highheels breaking the silence.

_Click clack click clack_.

"Damn it," A low, irritated voice sounded through the streets.

A young woman, just recently turned twenty five, was crouching on the sidewalk, slightly-calloused hands hurriedly grabbing the things that had spilled out of her purse. She was dressed well, in charcoal slacks and a navy turtleneck, her black totebag laying at her side as the agitated female mumbled obscenities under her breath.

"Just what I need. First, I have to go into the office on my day off, then I miss the metro, and now this!" She whispered, struggling to keep her temper in check. It wasn't her purse's fault the Konohagakure Police Department was short-handed.

Or that she just had to wear heels, and so, she couldn't run to catch the subway, lest she fall and break her neck.

"Where's my cellphone..." Her words trailed off as she pushed her frameless glasses up her nose, the modern, fashionable specs reflecting the light of the street lamp, causing a glare.

And, then, it went out.

The female cussed, fumbling around, trying to find her dark red BlackBerry. She stood up, careful so as not to accidentally step on her cellphone -which was still nowhere to be found- and sighed in a discontent manner, raking a hand through her hair.

"Shit," She hissed, then spun around when she felt something brush against her shoulder. She fell backwards, landing on her rump, and her glasses bounced from the bridge of her nose.

"The whole fucking world is against me!" She muttered, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She had had a long day, and it seemed that the night wouldn't be any better.

She might have been able to avoid this whole thing if it hadn't been for the fact that tonight was a new moon, the streets cloaked in darkness as each street lamp started to dim.

"Such coarse language from such a lovely lady." The young woman blinked as she strained to see the appearance of the man in front of her, but the darkness -and lack of glasses- made her vision fuzzy. All she could make out was the outline of man, tall and slender, hand outstretched.

"Here. Allow me to help you up, my dear." She nodded, taking his hand, that velvety voice resounding in her mind. It was smooth and low, almost sultry, with a faint accent that she couldn't place.

"Thank you," she said, earnestly. If there had been some form of lighting, she could have seen the too-friendly smile on his face, the way he eyed her greedily.

Possessively.

But, she was clueless, patting dirt off the back of her pants, unaware that he was reaching out to her until she felt something bump against her nose.

"These must be your's. I found them on the ground near the lamp post." She took the BlackBerry and her glasses, stowing the phone in her purse and sliding her glasses onto her nose. As she began to pull her hand out, the tips of her fingers brushed the barrel of her Glock, the only reason why she could walk the streets without worry.

"Arigato, Mister....?"

Silence greeted her.

"Hello? Sir?"

No answer.

She huffed, continuing on her walk. Right as she stepped in front of an old alley, one of the street lamps flickered to life, illuminating the area. The woman welcomed the light, blinking as she glanced around, her gaze finally settling on the alley.

"Oh, Kami-sama... what happened?" she walked forward slowly, bile rising in her throat as it always did when she stepped onto a crime scene.

On the hard asphault of the alley was a corpse, blood still leaking from it, creating a pool of red liquid around the body. The smell of the life-giving substance was tangy, metallic, poisoning the air. The corpse had yet to release an all-too-familiar odor of death, meaning the homicide had been executed recently.

The woman must have been around twenty-six, a beautiful young thing, silky blonde hair fanning around her head like a halo. But, the hair was caked with blood and her cerulean eyes were wide with terror.

According to the name tag on her shirt, her name was Yamanaka Ino and she worked at Yamanaka Flowers.

There were exactly five bullets in the victim's body, the detective would realize once help arrived. Five bullets, probably from a .99 millimeter. And, across the blood-stained skin of the victim's forehead, was a number carved into the delicate skin.

7

"Fan-fucking-tastic. Somebody call Gaara. Tell him we got another one. "

-

"... uh huh... uh huh... of course, sir... no, I don't have any plans... the Red Leaf? Sure, give me about two or three minutes. Ja ne." The pinkette scribbled the address on the back of her hand, the bright blue ink contrasting greatly with her peaches 'n cream complexion. She hung up, tucking her phone in her purse before starting towards the bar. She had left the crime scene when the forsenics had arrived. She would look over their evidence when she got back to the department, but right now she was meeting with her the head of the Homicide department, Gaara. She worked in the Homicide department, so she -plus practically everyone else- answered to Gaara.

"Sakura-san." The pinkette glanced up, smiling at the redhead. It was an instinctive reaction. When someone greets you, you smile. That was one of Sakura's Rules of Etiquette.

"Gaara-sempai." They clasped hands in an informal handshake before entering the bar. It was musky, the air clouded with smoke, the floor filled with a crowd of sweaty, moving bar-hoppers. This was where the two went when they wanted too talk in private. No one would expect them to be cops, in this place.

"So, Sakura, what have you got for me?" Gaara asked when they were seated. Sakura extracted her notepad from her purse, eyeing what she had written before reading it verbatim,

"'Yamanaka Ino, heiress to Yamanaka Flowers enterprise, found in alley on Third Avenue. Five .99 millimeter bullets to the chest. The number seven carved into the forehead with an unidentifiable weapon. Possibly pocket knife, due to width of markings. Dead for short amount of time, less than an hour'." She finished, staring at her employer with a calm gaze that he returned.

"So, what do you think, Gaara?" She waited with baited breath. Waiting for him to verify her suspicions. Waiting for him to tell her that this is most definitely linked to the other killings. But, at the same time, she didnt want him to. She wanted him to tell her it was a copycat. A fluke. Like the last one had been.

"..... it's Him." She exhaled silently, then smashed her fist against the table angrily. She cursed, glaring at the table. It was Him, again. She knew it. Always five bullets, exactly, all in the chest. And, each victim was numbered. This was his seventh. Seven innocent women, all more beautiful than the last. They had let him kill seven women.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" She asked, but didnt expect an answer. So, she was surprised when he answered.

"We're going to catch the bastard. That's exactly what we're going to do, Sakura." She stared at him, hard, then smiled slightly, though it was bittersweet. Gaara reached out, grasping her hand in his large, rough-palmed one, giving it a reassuring squeeze, his lips parting as he spoke again.

"Now, let's go, Sakura. We have to get back to the forsenics."

-- -- -- -- --

**_"... that's the end of the chapter." The reader is then shoved out of the room by the pleased author, who waves pleasantly and yells,  
"Dont forget to review! Have a nice day!"_**


End file.
